


Love Trip

by wibsies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Destiel - Freeform, Drug Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Minor Character Death, Physical Abuse, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-07 03:00:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1882605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wibsies/pseuds/wibsies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Castiel goes off to college in California he leaves Dean behind. Years later Sam and Dean move as well after Sam gets accepted into Harvard. The two bump into Cas during a party, and notice that Cas has really... changed. (edited by my lovely friend Michelle (huemen.tumblr.com) & proof read by my bud Nel (thepacificrimjob.tumblr.com)</p><p>NOTE: Currently a work in progress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sweltering summer heat burned against Dean’s bare back and he tried to eat his popsicle as quickly as he could before it melted away.

“Hey Castiel…” he said, holding up the popsicle stick.

“Yes Dean?” He replied. Too tired from the heat to move and look at his friend.

“What animal has the best sense of time?” He asked, reading the small text printed on the blue-stained wood.

“We’ll I’d assume that since animals don’t possess episodic memory like humans do, they would have to live in the present, and therefore cannot have a concept of time, this would mean, they also can’t grasp the concept of future. So, I would have to con-”

“A watchdog Cas,” Dean interjected. Man, for a smart kid, he isn’t all that bright…

“Oh,” Castiel said. Dean just chuckled a little.

“And you’re the one going off to college?” Dean scoffed, turning his head to look at his friend. Dean couldn’t believe how quickly ten years had flown by. He thought about the time they had spent together, laying under the same old oak tree, gazing up at the sky. It was the only time Dean could really escape his life and be happy. They would run around playing stupid games like cops and robbers, and Dean always insisted on playing Dennis Booker, while Castiel be the bad guy he was trying to catch. Then, when it got dark, they would race each other home, mud clinging to their clothes from rolling around in the dirt all day. He wasn’t a chick-flick touchy-feely kind of guy, but he had to admit, he really fell in love with hanging out with the little dork... and maybe a tiny bit with the dork himself.

Castiel just continued to stare up into the sky, off in his own world. _‘It’s nice like this,’_ Dean thought to himself. Him and Cas, laying under the shade of the old oak tree, watching the clouds roll by across the blue country sky. Dean secretly wished that it would never end. “California…,” he thought out loud,  “that’s pretty far from Kansas.”

“1,839 miles to be exact. A 27 hour drive, or a 3 hour and 40 minute non-stop flight,” Cas confirmed.

“Way to make it feel so much closer dude,” Dean joked. Cas smiled a little. Dean would never admit it, but he was really going to miss Castiel. A lot. He was going to miss all those days he spent with Sammy at Cas’ house when John came home drunk and angry. He was going to miss Castiel’s low gravelly voice and his stupidly messy hair. He was going to miss how his eyes would sparkle whenever he laughed and his uptight way of standing, like he had a stick always shoved too far up his ass.

Castiel had been his best friend for as long as he could remember. He really loved Cas, and not necessarily in that brotherly kind of love he had for Sammy. There was something he felt for Cas that he just didn’t feel for anyone else. It was special… _he_ was special, and  it wasn't entirely unexpected. They _had_ been attached to the hip ever since day one when Castiel saved Dean from a couple of second graders. You don’t just spend ten years with someone without forming _some_ kind of profound bond.

Because of this, Dean just couldn’t let Castiel go so easily. But it wasn’t as if he had a choice. And since he wanted Cas to have a good education, Santa Clara’s School of Theology was his best choice, even if it was in California and Dean wanted him to stay. He knew Cas would be happy there, and that was all that mattered.

“I’ll come home to visit during breaks,” Castiel said, breaking Dean’s train of thought.

“Damn right you will,” Dean exclaimed, “you’d better get your sorry ass back home as soon as you can. Sammy’ll miss you” _and so will I._

But Castiel never came back. On Thanksgiving day, Dean found himself looking out the window expecting to see an awkward little figure stumble up to his door steps, holding a pie-shaped dish, and knock on the door three times. Cas always knocked three times. Some stupid connection with the bible and completeness or whatever.

“Dean, get back to the dinner table and eat your damn food,” his father ordered, slapping the back of Dean’s head. “Your boyfriend isn’t coming back, so get over it.” those words stuck to Dean like a nasty thorn in his chest, yet he walked over to the kitchen table like he was fine. But he wasn’t fine. Castiel didn’t come back like he promised.

He didn’t come for Christmas either, and for the first time in a long time, Dean Winchester prayed, hoping for Cas to call, to hear that gravelly voice which sounded like he gurgled sand or something, apologizing for arriving home so late. There was no sign of him during spring break either, or June, or July… or the year after.  And little by little, month by month, Dean’s confidence in Cas’ return diminished. He blamed himself, he reasoned that it was his fault Castiel never returned home or answered any of his calls. Because Dean wasn’t special. He was just… a boy. A boy with a stupid crush and stupid expectations. He was stupid. So stupid. And Cas didn’t deserve stupid.

Soon, the days bled into months, and months into years, and Dean continued to live his life, and had almost completely forgotten about his Castiel, the boy from his past. Two years after Cas left, Dean graduated high school and got a job. He watched Sammy grow up into a man and bought him some sort of expensive champagne when he got accepted into Stanford for Pre-Law. His father had even been going to AA meetings to deal with his “problems”. Everything was turning around and was finally starting to look like that apple-pie life he had always wished for.

But then it happened. Again.

His dad relapsed and came home drunk. Real drunk. Drunk enough to start throwing plates, vases, chairs, anything he could get his hands on. He was screaming. Cursing at his boys.Cursing at the world for his shitty no good life. At the death of Mary. At Dean for looking like her, and at Sam for leaving.

Sammy locked himself in his room, eyes glazed with tears, like he was five years old again.

Dean being Dean, did his best to calm his father down. He ignored the lashes, he ignored the anger. But he couldn’t ignore the hurt.

“Sammy, everything’s gonna be ok. Just stay in here and I’ll take care of dad,” Dean said in a hushed tone. Sam flinched as he heard glass shatter downstairs.

“No Dean, you’re not getting hurt again,” Sam’s voice hitched as he spoke.

“I’ll be fine. Dude, I’m friggin Batman,” Dean laughed, smiling like this wasn’t going on right now. Like everything was totally fine. “Just stay in here and don’t come out until I tell you to. Got it?” Sammy nodded solemnly. Dean could see the fear in his eyes, but he tried to play it off as best he could. Opening the door, he could feel his heart race, and for a split second, he stopped breathing. He was scared, but there was no way in hell he was going to let Sammy see it. Walking downstairs, he watched as his father threw everything in sight.

Dean tried to keep himself together.

And he really did try. He was Dean Winchester, he could do anything… according to Sam anyways. He did his best to keep his composure, even when John landed his first punch across his cheek. Again and again and again and again. Even as his knees felt weak and his tongue began to taste the stench of bile. Even as anger and confusion threatened to show, as fear tried to dance across his head. But he never shed a tear. Even as John tore him apart.

“I fucking hate you!” John screamed, tossing a plate, barely missing Dean’s head. “You worthless piece of shit! You can’t even look after your goddamn brother half the time!” The louder he screamed the more worked up he got. He took another swig from the bottle he brought home and gave Dean a good jab in the stomach. He kicked Dean, again and again, until Dean began coughing up blood. His face was swollen, and his eyes could barely open from all the beatings. Skin broke where John had punched the hardest, and blood dripped down his face. Bruises covered his whole body and he could feel his rib broken. He could barely move from all the pain.

But then it happened.

The pain of his injuries danced across his face as the blows slowed and stopped. But instead of relief, he felt dread. Time slowed down, seconds passed by in minutes, and it was all so surreal to him. Dean’s head pounded with every drawer John slammed shut. He quickly stomped back into the front room where Dean was huddled in a corner, curled up in a ball to hide the pain, and all Dean could notice was the old family Colt that his father kept hidden in his bedroom, trembling in his right hand.

And Dean thought this is it. This is where he was going to die. But please God, he prayed, please make sure Sammy would be alright. He had such a bright future ahead of him, he’s going to be a lawyer, and make a life for himself and....

He watched in horror as his father raised the gun, but his breath stopped when he realized it was no longer pointing at him. John had turned the gun to face himself, and then, _oh god,_ put the old muzzle straight into his mouth.

He fired.

“DAD!” Dean cried out. Nothing responded. His legs wouldn't move. His arms wouldn’t move. His stupid dumb body wouldn’t move. The only thing that moved were the hot tears that streamed down his swollen face.

The sound of his father’s body crashing to the ground below him echoed in his head. Louder and louder, only to be broken by the creak of Sam’s door upstairs.

“Stay in your room Sammy!” Dean croaked.

“B-but Dean,” Sammy sobbed. Dean could hear the pain and fear trembling behind his voice.

“Stay in your room and don’t come out until I say so. Everything’s fine. Everything’s gonna be okay,” Dean’s voice shook. He received no reply and heard the click of the door knob, this time closing shut. And Dean just curled up into a tighter ball and pulled at his hair, sobbing.

He didn’t know what to do or what to say.

_He was… useless._


	2. Fresh Meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New home, new school, new life.

Dean finished setting down the last box in their new apartment and celebrated by stretching out his back.

“God damn… finally!” Dean exclaimed.

Sam laughed, “yea, now all we have to do is unpack.”

“Dude, we can do that tomorrow or something… We’re done for today dude, let’s go get a burger?” Dean fished in his pocket for his car keys. “On me.”

The engine of the Impala purred as Dean parked her in front of a burger joint Sam had Yelped two blocks away from their apartment. As they walked in, a bell chimed from above, and the two were greeted with smell of cooked beef. Finally. A new place with new people and a new life. This was where Dean could start all over, just him and Sammy. He could find work here and help pay off Sammy’s school, and Sam could finally go off and live the life he deserved.

“Two please,” Dean indicated to the front desk.

The two were guided by a cute waitress to their table, whose ass was definitely eye candy for Dean. As they took their seats, as she leaned over to place their menus on the table, Dean couldn’t help but to look at her… _ouch!_ Dean rubbed his shin after getting a quick kick to the leg. Sam just glared at him, revealing bitchface number twenty four, telling Dean to quit drooling over the girl and order their food already. Dean rolled his eyes and looked back at the waitress, giving her his award winning, charismatic smile.

“I’ll get a bottle of El Sol,” he said, voice oozing charm and the waitress rolled her eyes in response, which Dean took as a sign to knock it off.

“Water for me,” Sam added, trying to get the waitress’ attention.

He received a brief affirmation before she turned and left with their drink order.

After a short pause, Sam spoke breaking the silence.

"Hey Dean,” Sam began to ask as he looked over the menu, “do you think you could drop me off somewhere?"

"Where?"

"Well, I've been on this Facebook page for newly admitted students at Stanford, and there’s this girl, Jess. She invited me to this party to celebrate getting in or whatever."

"Yea sure,” Dean nodded. “But I’m coming with," and before Sam could argue, their waitress had returned, drinks in hand.

"You boys ready to order?" she asked, taking out a small notepad from her apron.

“Yea, I’ll have the bacon and cheeseburger,” Dean replied, handing the menu back to the waitress.

“Could you get me a health quake salad shake?” Sam asked as the waitress took his menu. The waitress made a funny look as she wrote the order down, then walked off.

“A salad shake?” Dean repeated.

Sam just brushed it off and continued with their previous conversation. “Dean, you don’t have to watch me every second. I’m fine on my own,” Sam insisted. His eyes pleaded with Dean to let him go. “Look, if this is because of the whole thing with dad, Dean I’m-”

“What? Your old brother can’t have fun, Sammy, I’ve basically had to watch your stupid mug my whole life. I need a break too,” Dean chuckled, taking a swig of his beer. “I’ll think about it. But first, I gotta hit the head,” and he excused himself from the table.

Dean locked the door behind him, concealing himself inside the small bathroom, then went straight to the sink. After splashing the lukewarm water onto his hot face, he took a good long look at himself in the grungy bathroom mirror. It had been three months since the “incident” but Dean could remember it like it happened yesterday. He could hear the sound of his father’s body crashing to the ground like a drum beat inside his head. The memories plagued him at night, stealing away his sleep. But insomnia he could handle. It was the blood that scared him.

There was always so much of it pooling onto the floor, that if his father hadn’t died, the blood in the dream would have drowned Dean. But that wasn’t the worst of it. It was the sound of the gunshot that stuck in the back of his mind wherever he went.

Bang. Bang. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

Ripping him from his thoughts, a muffled “Hey, is anybody in there?” echoed the bathroom, “c’mon man, hurry up,” the voice called out, breaking Dean out of his trance.

“Y-yea, just give me a second,” Dean answered, turning off the faucet. He took a moment to gather himself before walking out the door, ignoring the man’s frustration.

As Dean returned to the table, he noticed the food had arrived while he was away.

“Did the waitress miss me?” Dean joked, sitting down and grabbing his burger.

“Nope,” Sam smirked, grabbing a plastic cup filled with salad, and poured the little cup of dressing in before giving it a good shake. ‘Seriously?’ Dean thought to himself as he stared at his brother. Sam looked up and stopped shaking his cup for a moment, giving Dean bitchface number three, the _“is there a problem”_ look.

“Oh you shake it up baby,” Dean said sarcastically. God, his brother was such a nerd.

That night, the boys pulled up to a large white house.

"So is this the place?" Dean asked, peering through the Impala.

"Looks like it," Sam shrugged, looking out the window. Music boomed, and a couple of kids with red cups in hand idled on the porch. "You coming?" Sam asked as he stepped out of the classic muscle machine. Dean nodded gingerly putting his baby into park, hoping no drunk kid would fuck her up, and followed his younger brother.

Inside, the two tried to shuffle their way through the crowd of strangers, slowly making their way to the kitchen. They stood around awkwardly by the counter, beers in hand, trying to adjust to the atmosphere that felt almost foreign to them. It had always just been Sam and Dean, and to be in a place with a large group of people was… weird.

“Sam Winchester?” a voice called out from behind them. Turning around, the two looked to find a blonde girl standing behind them, waving at Sam. She was beautiful, absolutely stunning, Dean thought to himself. And there was just something about her that made your heart skip a beat.

“Jessica?” Sam answered, stunned. For a moment, Dean saw this… this glimmer in his little brother’s eyes, like he had just fallen in love. Which was probably the correct assumption. “Uh… hey, how’s it going?” Sam asked nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. Dean laughed silently to himself. This was probably the first time Sam had talked to a pretty girl.

“I’m good,” Jessica replied. “Wow I’m so glad you could come. And who is this?” she asked, turning to Dean.

“This uh… this is my brother Dean.” Sam gestured to his brother.

“Hey, how you doin’,” Dean greeted, shaking her hand. “Well you two have fun, I think there’s a game of beer pong going on outside that’s callin’ my name,” he said, dismissing himself so that Sam and Jess could be alone. What an amazing brother he was. Dean shuffled through the crowd of people and found a secluded spot in the corner of the living room. He watched them silently, observing how they all just seemed so careless and free. It was strange, realizing that even when his insides were eating himself alive, like his life was falling apart, the world would just continue to spin. Time would continued moving forward as Dean clung to the past.

“Get the fuck out of here dude! You trying to get us in trouble with that shit?” Dean jumped a little as he snapped back into reality, looking for where that voice had come from. His eyes followed the turn of curious heads, which led him to look up the staircase, where two people were quarreling with each other.

“Grab your shit and get the hell out of here!” the voice boomed. Someone had turned the music down by now and people gasped as a body tumbled down the stairs. Dean quickly walked over to see what all the fuss was about, watching as the boy who had just been shoved down the staircase slowly stand up.

“You didn’t have to do that,” the boy said, trying to gather himself. His gravelly voice was oddly familiar but Dean couldn’t quite his finger on it… Dean tried to get a better look, but the stranger’s face was shadowed by a dark hood.

“Get the fuck out of here you fucking tweaker!” The boy who pushed him off the steps shouted from the banister.

Slinking away, the boy spat, “this was a lame party anyways.” Curious, Dean followed behind.

Dean stepped out of the house and jogged down the porch to catch up with the mysterious stranger. s arms, he spun around, asking if he was alright. He got no response, but it didn't matter. The moment he saw his face Dean stopped breathing.

The two just stood there staring at each other in disbelief as the midnight air wrapped itself around them, and Dean shuddered. Whether it was from the cold or from the shock, he would never know. Dean kept thinking that this just had to have been a dream. There was no way this guy had been Dean’s best friend two years ago. The man looked nothing like him, yet at the same time, resembled Castiel so much.

Dean remembered tanned muscled skin from running track, and bright clear blue eyes. But what he saw now was a shell of what Cas had been. Pasty grey skin molted from malnutrition and a build that desperately needed a cheeseburger and sleep. But  despite the lifelessness, those were undeniably Castiel’s.

“Cas?” Dean asked under his breath. Despite his instincts it was otherwise, he prayed to God it wasn’t him.

Seconds ticked into what felt like hours as the suspense that built up in his chest threatened to break free in the form of vomit. This could not have been the man he knew.

Then, after a long pause, the junkie opened his mouth, voice raspy before greeting him, “hello Dean.”

 

 


End file.
